Shattered
by Soul Eater Evans
Summary: Mello left Matt five years ago, and Matt has suffered emotionally. With Mello's return, both of them learn that they must cross immense hurdles if they are to regain their relationship. M for yaoi, strong language, and violence.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER**- I don't own Death Note (though that would be awesome), and these lyrics are actually Avril Lavigne's. Haha. It's kind of weird, but they fit in pretty well. Also, there's a lot of yaoi/smut/lemon coming up, so if you're offended by any of that please don't read this.

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_It's nice to know that you were there,_

_Thanks for acting like you cared,_

_And making me feel like I was the only one._

_It's nice to know we had it all,_

_thanks for watching as I fall,_

_And letting me know we were done.  
_

_All the memories so close to me just fade away..._


	2. The Return

**DISCLAIMER**- Again, I don't own Death Note. Also, this is my first fanfiction, so bear with me. Mello's really OOC in the early chapters, but that'll get better later on (and it's intentional). Also, Matt is older than Mello in this because I think seme Matt and uke Mello is the only way to go and to me, age matters. Reviews/critique would be helpful. : )

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Three o'clock on a Saturday morning.

A redheaded man stirred fretfully in his sleep as the phone rang on the bedside table. Sitting up blearily, he yawned and answered it. "Hello?"

"Matt, it's me. I'm coming home."

_Shit. _

What had the amount of time been? Five years? Matt still remembered Mello's small body draped across the overstuffed couch lazily as he entered the apartment, setting a brown paper grocery bag on the kitchen counter. He had grabbed a chocolate bar from the bag and threw it to him, but instead of catching the candy, Mello had watched with troubled eyes as it fell to the floor. Matt had looked at him questioningly. "I'm leaving. To Russia. Don't look for me, don't follow me. If you try to contact me, I'll kill you." Matt hadn't said a word, not even as Mello had gone into their bedroom and emerged with a large suitcase full of clothes. Mello had drawn a gun and pointed it at Matt's forehead, but Matt hadn't even flinched. He had known, with his reliable intuition, that the Mello would not hurt him. He had walked towards Mello and, with heartbreaking finality, taken him in his arms and placed a final kiss on those sweet, chocolate-flavored lips, expecting never to see him again as he caught a last glimpse of shining black leather slip out the door.

But now, that was over. And Mello was coming back at long last. Matt was still sitting up in bed, gazing steadily down at the phone receiver. He stared at it as if it were Mello in front of him after all this time, and in essence, it was. That voice... that commandeering, harsh voice, was still music to his ears as he heard it through the phone. And in one moment all he could think of was how much trouble he'd be in if Mello were to come home and find the apartment in this state. The once tidy four-room apartment was now littered everywhere with gaming magazines, bits and scraps of random technology, wires and cables, and game covers. Matt moaned at how filthy the place had become. Slipping on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, he hauled himself upright and turned the lights on to assess the damage.

It was worse than he had thought. _Holy crap_, he thought, moaning inwardly at the amount of work that needed to be done. And it would have to be done quickly if he wanted to avoid being a target to further hone Mello's exemplary shooting skills. He cleared junk out of all the rooms, filling up large trash bags with everything that had been on the floor. After a couple hours' toil, he had the apartment back to its original state. As Matt grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom for a shower, the phone rang. In two bounds, he had picked it up. "Hello?"

"It's me again," the voice said, and Matt's heart sang. "I'll be at the apartment in a few hours. Expect me at one o'clock."

Mello hung up and the dial tone rang in Matt's ear. He showered quickly so that he could spend all of his time near the phone, waiting for another call. He wondered how much Mello had changed. He still remembered the soft, effeminate features of Mello at seventeen years old, the silky blond hair and soft pink lips. He had been eighteen when Mello left, and was shocked to think that small, pretty Mello was in his twenties now. The beautiful years of early romance had come and gone. Would Mello still want to be with him after all this time? He rocked back and forth, hugging his knees to his chest. He almost wished that Mello hadn't decided to come back... there were so many internal problems to deal with now. Sighing, he went to the living room and perched himself on the couch, thumbs working furiously as he sailed effortlessly past levels eleven, twelve, and thirteen of his newest hand held game. He glanced up at the clock and jumped. It was nearly one o'clock. Any moment now, Mello would return.

He had only been waiting for two minutes when the doorbell rang. He flung himself off of the couch and raced to the door, hesitating a moment before he turned the knob. Shaking his head in disgust at his nerves, he squared his shoulders and opened it firmly, feeling the ensuing gust of air tousle his bangs.


	3. Lying by Omission

DISCLAIMER- Nope, don't own Death Note yet.

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Mello stood in the doorway, looking the same as he had five years previously. His blond hair was a bit shorter and he looked paler and thinner than before, but those glistening sea-blue eyes and lithe body hadn't changed a single bit. Matt simply stared, unable to do anything. "Welcome back," he said after several long moments of painful silence. He stepped aside to let Mello pass, but Mello simply stood stock still in the hallway. "Come on, what are you waiting for?" Matt asked impatiently, reaching out to pull Mello inside. Instantaneously, he found himself held at gun point. "Don't touch me," Mello hissed. In person, his voice sounded different- strained, tensed. Matt let his hand drop and threw a scathing glance at the younger man. He knew the threat of the gun was empty (or at least, it would have been five years earlier). "Threaten to shoot me again and you won't have a home here," he said, walking inside. Mello followed tentatively, lugging his suitcase behind him. Once in the threshold, he closed the door and looked up to find Matt staring at him. He snarled. "What're you looking at?"

And Matt lost it.

Matt had always been gentle and caring, balancing Mello's irate and rash behavior. But these five years of perpetual solitude and intense, needling pain had hardened him into somewhat of a recluse, and he had but a few pitiful social skills left. He turned on Mello angrily, deep green eyes flaming. "Goddammit, Mello! You've been gone five years without explanation. I kept to my fucking end of the deal, I didn't question you and I didn't contact you. And you show up here again, expecting me to welcome you with open arms? Do you have any idea how hard it's been on me? While you were off doing god-knows-what in some forsaken country, I was sitting here and trying to figure you out. Hoping you'd come back, as pathetic as it sounds. When you called today, I almost told you to fuck off, you know that? But you hung up too quickly for me to say it. So thank me for letting you stay here. It stopped being your home when you left." He turned away, ashamed at his outburst. He almost regretted saying all that. Mello didn't reply, but he hadn't expected him to. "The guest room is yours. There are extra sheets in the closet," he muttered without turning around. He entered their old room and, closing the door behind him, slumped onto the bed with his face in his hands.

Mello had not moved since Matt's outburst. Tears of shock were running down his face, and he made no attempt to hide them. Had his years away really corroded Matt's feelings that much? _The bastard_, Mello thought. _I don't know how to deal with him now_. He trudged towards the guest room, wiping tears from his eyes. The suitcase thudded along behind him. Collapsing on the bed, he stared at the ceiling. He wanted to tell Matt why he had left, why he had allowed him to suffer for this long. But this new angry Matt terrified him. He realized that what he had done was selfish, and by not contacting Matt for those five years he must have kept him in a state of living Hell. And he had done it for Matt's safety. But he had come back expecting immediate acceptance, and that was his mistake. On top of that, he had been rude and cold to Matt, who could not deal with that behavior in his emotional state. Still pondering over his next course of action he stretched, catlike, on the bed, wishing Matt were there next to him as he drifted off to sleep.

He was jolted awake by a knock on his door. "Mel, dinner's ready," Matt said, straining to sound normal. Mello's heart skipped a beat as he heard Matt call him by his old nickname. "Er... yeah, coming," he replied in a subdued tone of voice. He heard Matt's footsteps trailing away. Opening the door and peeping out, he walked silently to the kitchen, where Matt was cutting a large omelette in half and plucking bread from the toaster oven. "Sorry, it's not much... I didn't have very many groceries at home..." he said, trailing off stiffly near the end.

"No, no, this is fine. It looks delicious," he said, smiling at Matt.

Matt looked down at his food without returning the smile and started shoveling his dinner into his mouth with more concentration than was necessary. Mello was stung at his callousness. Couldn't Matt see that he was trying to apologize? He cleared his throat, hoping to get attention. Matt paused slightly to see what Mello wanted. "I want to talk to you after dinner," Mello said, slightly hesitant. Matt nodded, though he looked apprehensive. When they had finished eating, Matt stood up and cleared the table, rinsing the dishes before putting them in the sink. Mello stood near the table awkwardly, not sure what to do.

"I know you've just gotten back from a long trip, and you must be exhausted, but would you mind cleaning the table?" Matt asked. His tone was colder and more sarcastic than necessary, and he did not meet Mello's eyes. Mello jumped slightly.

"Yeah, sure thing," he replied, getting a dishcloth out and wiping down the dinner table. He rinsed it and put it back and went back to standing around. Matt busied himself with imaginary tasks, stalling the talk with Mello. Mello cleared his throat again. "Yeah?"

"Er... Matt, I really want to talk to you."

"Yeah, well, go sit down. I'll be there," Matt snapped, unsure of how to respond to Mello's- well- _mellow_ness. He was used to a dominating, outgoing person. This new toned-down version was completely foreign to him. Wiping his hands on a towel, he entered the living room to see Mellow perched on the armchair, arms crossed defensively in front of himself. He was shivering slightly. _I wonder if he's cold in that outfit_, thought Matt, worriedly. Immediately, he chastised himself_. If he's cold, he can get himself a blanket. He's not a child any more. _"Yeah, so... what was it?"

"I want to tell you what I was doing in Russia. And why I came back. I think you deserve to know that."

"No shit."

Mello was nervous, and it showed outwardly. Matt could see him twisting his fingers together, and he kept looking down at the ground. "Mello, I promise I won't be mad at whatever you say," Matt said gently, his tone softened by pity. Mello nodded then took a breath, opening his mouth to start speaking. "Well... it had a lot to do with the mafia. A few months before, I had ordered my men to kill someone, but the picture I gave them wasn't clear. They killed the wrong guy at first, but at the time I thought he was simply an innocent civilian, so it didn't concern me."

Matt flinched. Killing in video games was okay, but whenever Mello brought up the mafia with him (which was not often), he felt sick to his stomach that his friend had caused so many deaths. Mello cleared his throat and continued, aware of Matt's mild discomfort. "Anyhow, the point is, that guy wasn't an innocent civilian. He was another mafia group's most talented hit man. It didn't go down with that group too well, because this individual was the biggest money maker in the group, and he was the main source of their wealth. The group sent over some amateurs to hunt me down and kill me, because they knew that it was my gang that had killed their hit man. I- er- had to take them out, and that night I left. All this time, I've been in Russia to try and find that group and annihilate them." _And I did it for your sake too, Matt!_ He wanted to cry out. _So that they wouldn't find you and hurt you, or use you against me. Because if they held you hostage and demanded my life for yours... I'd have give it to them. _

"To _try_ to find the group?"

"The mission didn't go as expected. There were a lot of casualties. That's why I came back," Mello said, almost under his breath. Admitting defeat was hard for him.

"And you're here to stay now? No other unexpected trips?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Good night, then," Matt said after a long pause, and walked into his room with an impassive exterior. Mello stared after him. _What the hell! He doesn't even care that I was in Russia for the past five years fighting armed psychos?_

Matt collapsed on the bed, exhausted from the large effort to keep his composure while listening to what Mello had said. He had always known that Mello's dealings in the mafia would take a turn for the worse at one point. He had wanted nothing more than to say 'I told you so' to Mello, but it would be putting his health at risk to do so. He was still hurt and angry, but he had read the expression in Mello's eyes and grasped so much more than what he had said. He knew that Mello had left so that the opposing group would not harm him, but it didn't make him feel any better. His insides still roiled with pent up anger and frustration. At that moment, he heard Mello knock timidly on his door. "Yeah?"

"It's me, Mello." His voice sounded oddly hollow and muffled through the door.

"Um... all right, come in." Matt cursed himself for sounding like a fool. The door opened and Mello slipped in silently, standing before Matt in all his physical perfection. Matt found himself wanting to reach out and touch the pale skin and thin limbs before him, but balled his rebellious hands into fists by his sides so that he wouldn't do anything rash.

"Matt, I did it for your own good too, you know." This time when Mello spoke, there was a harder undertone to his voice. Matt blinked. So Mello had started going back to the way he usually was, had he? "Yeah, okay. I'm not mad. I get why you did it. And I'm thankful, because I'm alive and kicking. But I don't know how I feel about this. Whether it was for me or not, what you did isn't something I can get over in a day, you know," Matt sighed, running his fingers through his hair and pulling out the orange-tinted goggles perched on his head. Mello simply stared at him blankly. "Matt..." he whispered. And suddenly, his voice became a torrent of anger. "Look, I'm back, I've fucking said my apologies, okay?"  
"Ah, really, have you? I didn't hear 'I'm sorry about what I did, Matt' or anything. Always too proud to admit you did something wrong, eh?"  
"If I hadn't done that fucking 'something wrong', you probably wouldn't be here today," Mello hissed, approaching Matt. He stood up.

"I get it. So I'll be decent and say sorry. Sorry, Mello, for not accepting your return as graciously as I could have. But it's expected, isn't it, that when someone walks out on you and doesn't contact you for five years, that it'll be somewhat of a shock when they finally do bother to tell you they're alive?"

"Hell, Matt! Fine, I'm sorry! I'm sorry for not telling you before that day I left. I'm sorry I left you here without any contact. And I'm fucking sorry for coming back on such short notice! But I..." his voice lost intensity and volume here. "Dammit. Just forget it."

Matt stared at the younger man's face, trying to read his expression. "Apology accepted." Mello looked up. He nodded in acknowledgment of Matt's words and turned to leave, but Matt caught his arm. "And am I forgiven?"

"Yeah. I guess." _You always were, you did nothing wrong. It was all my fault._

"G'night, then. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah. Good night." Mello bowed his head and exited through the door. He wanted to tell Matt everything that had happened in Russia, but he couldn't bring himself to. It made him feel dirty, like he had somehow been stained with something that was impossible to rub off. He wanted, desperately, to tell Matt that he had only intended to stay in Russia for a year.


	4. Not Thought Out

**Author's Note:** Hey guys! So last night, I was checking my email, and I found that someone had reviewed my story just yesterday and had asked me to continue it. And it was kind of a shock for me because I didn't think anyone was actually reading this anymore. That comment kind of got me excited for this fic again, and I had to go back to finish it. I realize that it's been two years since I first started uploading, but I really want to finish this time. You'll probably notice that this chapter 4 is different than the original chapter 4. I deleted that one because I thought it was kind of immature and distasteful, and rewrote it. I want to thank you for sticking with me through these two years of nothingness!  
**Disclaimer/Warning:** Sexual situations in this one. Also, I don't own DeathNote.

Oh and I kind of know that you probably got more than one email about this chapter... I had some formatting issues to deal with. So sorry about the spam! D:

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Matt, though happy and somewhat relieved that the entire ordeal of the apology had passed, was still annoyed at the way things were. Clearly, there was still an attraction between them- this he could not deny. Furthermore, the anger and resentment and self-pity that he kept wanting to feel in this situation kept disappearing whenever he thought of Mello. This could have been because every time he thought of Mello, he started to think about how soft and silky Mello's skin was, how comfortable the top of Mello's head was under his chin, and how tense Mello's lean body felt under his when they fuc- no. Here, he drew the line. He would not think of that, especially not when it hadn't even been a full day since his _former _(he emphasized this word to his rebellious mind) partner had been back. But he could feel an ache where the hole in his heart was stirring feebly, almost expectantly, now that his love was back.

Several hours of internal conflict had passed this way- it was now past two in the morning, and Matt's thumbs were starting to feel a little creaky from moving the joysticks on his video game controller so much. He was playing a game where he could kill things recklessly to take out some of the pent-up feelings within himself. Many nights had been spent like this the year after Mello's disappearance, and though he knew that he was just denying himself the opportunity to think things through, Matt persevered. The more people he shot the better, because each bullet hole he made in the badly-drawn characters gave him a little more satisfaction. It was almost as if he was shooting Mello once for each day he had been away. But immediately, his subconscious made him feel sorry for thinking that- how could he wish harm upon Mello, the man he loved? His Mel? _But five years of hard feelings can't just up and disappear_, Matt thought to himself grimly.

Finally pausing the game, he pushed his goggles up on his head, kneading the skin upon which they had been resting. The hideous red welts they left would definitely be visible in the morning. He stretched and put the game controller down, flicking the television off with the remote. Heavily, he walked towards his room, suddenly so exhausted that he wouldn't even mind collapsing on the hardwood floor. As he walked past the light switches, he flicked each of them down into the 'off' position, dawdling until he reached the door of Mello's room. He stood in front of it awkwardly, one hand halfway to the knob while his head was bowed towards the wood paneling. Thinking that it probably wasn't a good idea since Mello could be awake, he started to turn away- but stopped. Had he just heard his name from the other side of the door? His heart hammered in his chest, partly out of joy and partly out of shame of being discovered. He turned and opened the door. "I wasn't spyi-," he blurted out, but stopped when he saw that the room was dark and Mello's eyes were closed.

Moonlight filtered in through the half-closed curtains, rippling over the small leather-clad body lying among the tousled sheets. Mello hadn't tucked himself in properly, but was on top of the rumpled comforter, his limbs splayed almost comically. His normally perfect blond hair was just as messy as the sheets; the strands highlighted by the silver light from the windows looked like precious metal. One corner of Matt's mouth turned upward in a crooked smile at this sight. Whatever harsh feelings had been in his chest washed away, replaced by a sudden tenderness and warmth. '_He said my name in his sleep'_ was the only thing Matt was thinking at the moment. He walked silently to the windows, drawing the curtains closed until the room was plunged into darkness. It was only then that he even dared approach the bed, staring down at the peaceful face of the man who had caused him so much grief in the past five years. Gently, he folded the sheets over Mello, attempting to tuck his small arms and legs into a somewhat normal position. His hands lingered on the smooth skin they touched and, suddenly possessed by an impulsive urge, Matt bent down and kissed Mello's soft lips. It had been his intention to keep it to a simple peck at the most, but he lingered here, too. He forced himself to pull away and started to straighten up, but was immediately stopped by a tug on the bottom of his shirt. Matt felt himself flush red, but the laughing, mocking voice he was expecting to hear didn't come. Instead, Mello's words were spoken in a soft, drowsy whimper that was so full of desire that Matt stopped in his tracks as he made to escape. "Matt, stay."

Matt had been with Mello for a long time before Mello had left him. Since they were kids, practically. They had simply gone together that well- like bread and butter, or peanut butter and jelly. Mello had always been the loud, domineering, and somewhat obnoxious personality in the relationship- something that Matt found endearing. Matt, while not a pushover, was not quite as outspoken, and tended to handle himself in a more dignified and stoic manner. He had thought that Mello's personality was pretty much set in stone, and he would never have expected Mello to speak to him in this pleading, longing voice that was brimming with apology and sorrow. In hindsight, Matt knew that it had been this aspect of Mello's voice, more than anything, that prompted him to take his next actions.

Matt leaned back down in response to the hand pulling at his shirt. "Yeah, Mel?" he asked, raising his hand to touch Mello's hair. "I want you to stay- I don't want you to be angry with me," Mello breathed. His eyes were still half shut and his voice was groggy, and Matt realized that Mello was still mostly asleep. "I don't think you know what you're saying," he whispered, bending down to free his shirt from Mello's grasp so that he could leave. Suddenly, Mello's other arm was around his neck, dragging him down towards the bed. Matt became very aware of Mello's mouth trying to find his, and his already feeble attempts to resist vanished. He caught Mello's mouth with his own, kissing him hungrily. It was nothing like the gentle, sweet peck he had given him just five minutes ago- this was full of passion and lust. Matt sank to his knees beside the bed, his arms tight around Mello's waist as they kissed for what seemed like hours. Finally, Matt pushed Mello away, panting heavily. Any misgivings he had had were gone, vanished completely. Mello sat up, clear-eyed and startled at the change in behavior. "Where are you going?" he asked softly, his tone still muted. Matt chuckled softly, pulling his vest off.

"Nowhere," he replied, the crooked smile appearing on his face again. Mello laid back on the bed wordlessly, and Matt took it as an opportunity to get on top of him. His knees were on either side of Mello's hips, his hands on either side of Mello's head. Gently, he leaned down to press his lips against Mello's, building the intensity of the kiss until they were both panting again. Matt brought his fingers to the zipper on Mello's vest, but felt the younger man's hand catch his as he was about to undo it.

"What is it?" Matt whispered, brushing the soft patch of skin below Mello's ear with his nose.

"I- well... our old room..." Mello trailed off at the end, his voice hopeful.

Matt needed no further encouragement. He moved swiftly to a standing position and scooped Mello's small frame into his arms, carrying him across the hallway. He fumbled with the doorknob and, after what seemed like an eternity, pushed the door open. The bed was unmade, the comforter spilling off of one side and the sheets wrinkled. He set Mello down on the mattress and knelt over him, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. He felt Mello's hands snake around his waist and moaned, bending down to kiss him. Mello's body arched against his and he took pleasure in the fact that though he had been out of practice for quite some time, he still had some skills in the sack. Matt unzipped Mello's vest impatiently, exposing the milky white chest under it. Mello lifted his torso off of the bed to allow Matt to remove the garment, and laid back down. He placed a hand on Mello's chest, moving it downwards and feeling the bony ribs and taut abdominal muscles he had missed so much. He could feel Mello's hands moving around on his back and abdomen as well, hungrily tracing every inch of his exposed skin. Matt lowered his hips and ground them against Mello's, allowing Mello to feel his erection, which was uncomfortably tight against his jeans. Taking the hint, Mello started to undo his pants, pulling them off with some difficulty due to the leather sticking against his sweaty skin.

Matt took off his own jeans, throwing them to the floor carelessly, then removing his boxers in the same fashion. Mello, he had been amused to find out, had not been wearing any underwear under those tight leather pants of his. He bit Mello's neck gently, snaking his hand down the lithe body to stroke his leg. Mello pushed Matt away to free himself from the weight of the redhead's body, then turned over, propping himself up on hands and knees. Matt laughed under his breath, then grasped Mello's hips, enjoying his partner's enthusiasm. "Ready?" He asked, his voice hoarse and deeper than usual. Seeing Mello nod, he entered forcefully, hissing in pleasure. Mello's whimpers and moans of pleasure urged him on, and within seconds they were moving together, fitting like two pieces of some long-abandoned puzzle.

Hearing Mello climax, Matt couldn't restrain himself any longer. He, too, climaxed and collapsed on the bed next to Mello. Rolling over onto his back, he stretched himself out on the side of the bed he used to occupy all those years ago when it had been regular practice for them to sleep together. Completely exhausted from the night's activities he closed his eyes after one last glance at Mello, drifting to sleep with the image a blond angel in his mind.


	5. Eventual Truth

**Author's note:** Hi guys. I thought I'd give you a super fast update in return for the two-year-late update, haha. I was so excited to write that I just sat down and churned another chapter out. Thank god for no homework this weekend! Also in case you were wondering why Mello is so OOC here, it's because I like to think that Mello doesn't act obnoxiously and disrespectfully towards Matt, the one person he loves. He can still be an asshat sometimes, but he's generally quite mellow (excuse my pun) when they're together. At least, that's how I'm imagining him while I write this. He'll get back some of his spunk when they're more comfortable together.

Oh also I would really appreciate it if you took the time to review. It'll make me update faster! Just like Powerthirst will make your babies run like Kenyans... your reviews will make me type like... whatever types fast. I dunno.

**Disclaimer:** Crude language... because Matt and Mello are not saints. I do not own DeathNote.

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Matt twitched and opened his eyes. Bright, hot sunlight was streaming into his bedroom from the gap between the curtain panels. The damn light had woken him up. He furrowed his brows, rubbing his eyes to clear the bleariness that was partially obstructing his vision. With a yawn, he stretched his arms over his head, arching his back and groaning slightly as he irritated a sore muscle. His brushed against something slightly sticky and soft and he jumped slightly. Looking over to his side, he saw a bush of blond visible just above the edge of the comforter, and all the details from last night flooded back to him. With a groan, he covered his face with his hands. He hadn't been thinking properly last night. Definitely not. He had been tired, and Mello had just looked so appealing...

It had clearly been a lack of judgment on his part.

He peeped under the covers and his heart was almost melted by the sight that met him. Almost. Mello was curled into his side, his limbs tucked in and folded so that he looked almost like an overgrown baby. He had clearly been sleeping in with an arm around Matt at some point because his left arm was curved awkwardly away from his body, very near Matt's waist. Instead of being touched by this, Matt was frustrated. Mello seemed to think that nothing had changed since his departure, and that it was simply okay for them to sleep together as if nothing was wrong. Matt whipped the covers off of himself and searched on the floor for his boxers, wobbling around a bit unsteadily due to his sleepiness. Finally finding them, he pulled them on to make himself somewhat decent and exited the room. Padding into the kitchen, he started his now daily routine of opening the cabinet doors, finding only a few expired cans of tuna, and shutting them again. A search in the refrigerator yielded only half a loaf of bread, so Matt dropped two slices into the toaster and pushed the knob on the side down.

He sat at the kitchen table, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed and arms crossed. He hoped Mello wouldn't wake up any time soon, because he didn't know how to deal with him. It had really been kind of like make up sex... but without the making up. It probably appeared to Mello that everything was forgiven now that Matt had agreed to sleep with him. But really, it wasn't. Matt still had no idea what had gone on with Mello while he was in Russia, and it bothered him that Mello was fine with seducing him and getting sex from him without giving him an explanation. The sound of the bread popping up from the toaster slots woke him from his reverie, and he got up to put the toast on a plate. He ate it plain, munching his way through one slightly burnt slice and then picking up the other. Just as he was bringing the toast to his mouth, he heard the creak of a door and a muffled voice from down the hallway. "Matt? Where are you?"

Matt didn't know how to reply. He wasn't completely angry at Mello, but he wasn't ready to go back to the way they had been prior to the whole Russian affair. He put his toast down and got up, walking back towards the bedroom. Opening the door, he saw Mello kneeling in bed, his legs covered by the sheets and his hair comically mussed. He began to smile when he saw Matt, but stopped when he noticed the stony expression on Matt's face. "Get dressed, Mello. And get out of my room," Matt said, his voice reflecting his physical and mental exhaustion. "Mattie-" Mello interjected as Matt was about to close the door. Matt paused slightly, but shut it anyways. He was slightly amused to hear Mello curse from behind the door and allowed himself to chuckle as he walked back towards his breakfast.

Two minutes later, he heard footsteps in the hall. "Matt, what the hell was that?" He heard Mello's angry voice from behind him. He didn't reply and continued eating his toast. "The only food I've got left is bread right now. It's in the fridge if you want some."

"I don't want your goddamn bread. I want to talk," Mello shot back, walking to the opposite side of the table. He pulled the chair roughly away and sat down, his arms and legs crossed tightly in the way they always were when he was angry.

"You'll scratch the hardwood floor if you pull the chair out like that. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop. Also, I'm not interested in talking unless you tell me exactly what you were doing in Russia." Matt stood up, pulling the chair away extremely carefully so as to show Mello what he meant, and then picked up his plate and walked to the sink. From behind him, he heard Mello exhale angrily.

"Then what was last night? Last night was a bit more than _talking_. Are you telling me that you don't mind fucking as long as I don't say anything to for the rest of the day?"

Matt turned around, opening his mouth to respond. But words escaped him, and he didn't know what to say. Thinking about it, what Mello was saying was technically correct. "Not... exactly. Last night was a mistake. I wasn't thinking straight."

"Must've been the best mistake of your life, judging from the sounds you were making. And nothing about it could have been described as 'straight'," Mello smirked, his tone taunting. Matt turned around angrily, his hands balling into fists. "Fuck you, Mello," Matt said through gritted teeth.

"You already did. And I'm pretty sure you liked it. No- _loved_ it."

"Shut the hell up. Just be thankful I let your sorry ass back in the apartment."

"The sorry ass you were groping last night?"

"How do you think this is going to make me want to talk to you? I'm just getting pissed off right now."

"Well, something is working because you're still responding to what I say."

Matt gave Mello a scathing look and exited the kitchen, collapsing into his favorite seat on the sofa and turning the television on with the remote control. He heard Mello's footsteps approaching him but ignored them, keeping his eyes glued pointedly to the screen. Suddenly, he felt a warm, damp hand slither down his chest towards the waistband of his boxers. He jumped, catching Mello's wrist before his fingers could reach any further. "Fuck, Mello! What's wrong with you?" He asked angrily, whipping around to face the insolent perpetrator. Mello glared back, facial features hard and unapologetic. "You can't use sex or your fucking arrogant personality to get me back on your side. To do that, you need human decency. As in, telling me exactly what was going on. Don't you think you owe me at least that much?"

"Are you saying I'm not decent? I'm more decent than you at the moment... you're only wearing boxer shorts."  
"Stop fooling around," Matt said, forcing himself not to punch Mello in the face. "I thought you would have realized by now that this isn't a joke to me. I'm sorry that I slept with you last night because it was against my judgement. But you'll be nothing to me until you man up and tell me what exactly it is that you were doing."

"I'll be... nothing?" Mello asked. His tone was defiant,but he looked like he had just been slapped.

"That's right."

"But didn't we apologize to each other just yesterday? I thought everything was forgiven. If I'd known that there were still hard feelings I wouldn't have..." He trailed off at the end. Wouldn't have what? Seduced him? Shagged him senseless?

"You're forgiven for not telling me before you left. And coming back with barely any notice. And for not contacting me during your absence. But you didn't tell me the whole story- just some half-assed condensed version. Why were there so many casualties? What was unexpected about the mission? It might not have seemed like much time to you if you were off fighting and god-knows-what, but I was just sitting here in the apartment. Five years seemed like a century to me. And I can't just let you off without explaining _exactly_ what was going on, because I want to know why I had to suffer that much and for that long. I wanted to know why I had to be forgotten and ignored for five years. I don't know. I just feel stupid for worrying and even caring that much when you clearly don't think it's worth it to tell me what exactly was going on with you," Matt said, feeling his cheeks flush. He hadn't meant to be so direct about what his actual feelings were, because he thought they made him seem weak. And he couldn't afford to seem weak in front of someone like Mello, who would just use it against him.

Mello just stared at him, unable to say anything. When he finally did open his mouth, he seemed to deliberate briefly before speaking. "I didn't think you felt that way," he said lamely. _Of course I hadn't forgotten you. And I wasn't ignoring you, I was trying to protect you from being hunted down._

"Okay, well, now you do."

"No, I mean about me not thinking it was worth telling you."

"Was I incorrect to say that?"

"Obviously," Mello said, his voice tinged with frustration. "Didn't I tell you that I hadn't contacted you to keep you alive? Do you think that's not caring about you? I didn't tell you anything because I cared more about your life than your being all pissy that I didn't inform you completely."

"Then are you going to tell me now?" Matt asked, setting his jaw in a way that made his face look threatening. Mello stammered, not sure what to say to this unusually surly Matt.

"I... I-I can't," Mello said, dropping his gaze to the floor. Matt made an angry noise in the back of his throat and stood up.

"Then I guess this discussion is over. I'll give you a few days to get yourself together, but after that you can find somewhere else to live and someone else to take advantage of." He got up to go to his room, but Mello stepped in front of him.

"Please, Matt, give me some time! I'll explain everything to you, I swear. Just not right now. I really do want to tell you, it's just... the coast isn't completely clear yet. Trust me a little. After all, nothing happened to that ass of yours while I was gone, so what I did must be worth _something_ to you," Mello pleaded. They stood that way- the smaller man's hands raised in front of his chest and the larger redheaded one as still as a statue- for a long time before Matt raised his gaze to make eye contact with Mello. "If your promise is real, you can stay. If you're lying about telling me just so that you've got a place to live, you can move your sorry ass out right now."

Mello breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Matt," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Yeah, well, take a shower and get ready soon. I need to do some grocery shopping and there'll be too many bags for me to carry alone now that I've got to buy food for an extra person," Matt said, his voice impassive. With a final glance at Mello, he strode down the hall and into his room, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud.


	6. Tightrope

**Author's Note:** Yes, I know that these fast updates are a bit ridiculous. It's as if I don't do anything except write fanfic- oh wait. That IS all I do. Well okay, not really, but I've been so eager to continue the story. Plus I figure I owe fast updates because of the bizarrely long gap LOL. I'm actually not as happy with this chapter as I want to be. When I first went to write it I was like 'Let's make it cutesy and feed the MXM lovers' fantasies' but then when I wrote it, it came out horribly unrealistic because there is no way two characters can go back to being cutesy if they're still raging at each other. Right? So I changed it and it's more of that weird tension-attraction stuff between them. Things are going to get better in the next chapters, so please don't be tooooo disappointed with this one. And please forgive the writing in this one- I tried to fix it (I really did!) but nothing seemed to work.

Also don't you think I deserve a review after I updated so quickly? ;DDD  
But honestly, I really value your feedback and I'd like to know what I can do to make this fic more enjoyable for its readers. Anyways, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own DeathNote or Matt or Mello. Also there's some crude language because MXM is sexier when written in their pottymouth vernacular. : D

* * *

Matt took a brief shower and got dressed. It felt a bit bizarre to be doing something as mundane as grocery shopping when he had gotten the shock of his life less than thirty-six hours ago. It was weirder, still, to be going with Mello exactly like they had done five years ago. But hey, eating was something that was non-negotiable. And the odd noises his stomach made when it wasn't filled with something were distracting when he was trying to code things or fix the wiring in his game consoles. He sat down at the kitchen table, a pen between his teeth and a torn envelope from the recycling bin in front of him, attempting to make a list. His food shopping wasn't really structured since he didn't mind eating whatever was in the house, so long as it wasn't expired or made with cabbage, which he hated. Giving up, he crumpled up the envelope and chucked it into the trash can standing near the stove. He pocketed the pen and made sure he had his wallet on him as he heard Mello's footsteps approaching the kitchen. "Are you all set?" he asked, eyeing Mello's clothing appreciatively. He was dressed like a normal person for once, devoid of any clingy or revealing leather. "Yeah," Mello replied, shuffling behind him as they headed towards the door. Matt stuffed his feet into his dingy high tops and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway. Mello hung back, looking uncertain about something. "What is it?" Matt asked impatiently, wanting to get the shopping done before lunchtime.

"Well... do you have money?" Mello asked, gesturing back towards one of the kitchen drawers. Matt raised his eyebrows, surprised that Mello still remembered.

"Yeah, I use plastic now. Since there hasn't been a crime lord living around here in a few years, I no longer have to deal with suitcases full of bills," Matt said coldly. When Mello had been the one bringing in all the money, they had used one of the kitchen drawers to store paper money (usually in absurdly high denominations) for their daily expenses.

"So you've got a job now?" Mello asked, trying to keep up a normal conversation.

"I had to find some way to support myself, didn't I?" Matt said, his voice slightly acid.

"I was just curious," Mello replied, annoyed at Matt's reluctance to even talk to him.

"Yeah, well, I code and design games. Fix major companies' issues with their up-and-coming technology. Hack stuff professionally. It's not glamorous, but I've been making big bucks," Matt said, glancing sideways at Mello, who, he was pleased to note, looked a bit surprised.

"I thought you said you didn't want to have to be tied down to a job like that."

"It's mainly freelance... I only do it if I want to. And I only felt that way because I was living with a pro hitman who was making a crapload of money and there was no necessity for me to work. I mean, who would ignore Halo to go find a job? But when your money ran out I was forced to think practically," Matt said, his voice cool and level. They were now on the sidewalk in front of their apartment building. Mello paused again.

"Do you still go to the same supermarket?" he asked, as Matt looked at him questioningly. It was strange to be so unsure around Matt.

"Well, yeah. I don't think there are any other places around here that are that big or cheap," Matt said, turning right and quickening his pace. "Hurry up! I want to be back before lunch time."

Mello hurried to catch up and matched his pace to Matt's. The two walked on in awkward silence, occasionally rounding street corners. Both of them were itching to say something to break the uncomfortable tension that seemed to hang between them, but neither spoke until Matt pointed out their arrival at the grocery store. "Here we are," he said, more for the sake of saying something than actually informing Mello of their arrival. As they walked in, he grabbed a cart and pushed it along. "If you see anything that's microwaveable and looks fairly delicious, just toss it in the cart. We need some snacks too... preferably stuff that won't go bad in a couple weeks," Matt said, grabbing two boxes of Easy Mac in one hand and dropping them carelessly into the cart. Mello simply looked at him. "What?" Matt asked, irked at the intense scrutiny.

"You're living off of this... shit?" Mello asked. Matt snorted before replying.

"As I recall, you used to eat nothing but chocolate. So don't give me shit about 'eating healthy'."

"I ate your cooking, too," Mello retorted indignantly.

"Right. Well, that's changed. I don't really cook anymore. Making omelettes and boiling pasta is pretty much the extent of my culinary prowess these days," Matt said, turning away and pushing the cart forward to get a couple boxes of linguine, clearly trying to close the topic. Mello reached out to catch the back of his shirt. "What do you mean you don't cook anymore?"

"I dunno. I just... don't. Drop it," said Matt waspishly, reluctant to analyze his changes in behavior with Mello. They continued through another aisle and the freezer section, Matt pulling boxes of ready-to-eat foods off of the shelves and out of the freezers with a swiftness that suggested that this was routine behavior for him. Mello trailed uselessly behind him, helping only when Matt asked him to. As they came to another stop, something caught Mello's eye. Boxes of chocolate bars, the same brand he always used to get, were on the shelves opposite to where they were. Matt had noticed this as he had come down the aisle, and he had stopped simply to watch Mello's reaction. He was frustrated with Mello and wasn't beyond venting his feelings by messing around with him. He pretended to study the nutrition facts on a bag of potato chips while keeping a steady watch on Mello out of the corner of his eye. The younger man's reaction was amusing simply because of how damn _predictable_ it was.

Mello had started shifting from foot to foot and he looked as if he needed to pee. He took a couple steps towards the candy bars, but stopped himself and looked back at Matt, who busied himself with browsing the different types of potato chips in front of him. Mello balled his hands into fists and shoved them into his armpits, crossing his arms tightly. _I haven't had one of those in such a long time_, Mello thought, wishing that he could just devour the box right then and there. But he controlled himself. If he wanted to get back in Matt's good books, he couldn't go around eating boxes of candy bars without paying for them. Asking Matt to buy them for him was just as unthinkable, since he didn't want to grind his already smashed ego further into the ground. Instead, he fidgeted in place, biting his lower lip and wishing that Matt would just choose whatever fucking flavor of potato chips he wanted so that he could get away from the boxes of temptation staring him in the face. Suddenly, he heard a loud snort from behind him. He whipped around, eyebrows drawn together in his signature "go-to-Hell" look, trying to hide his embarrassment at being caught. "If you want the chocolate so much, just take it. Honestly, don't stand there looking like a dumbass in the middle of the store," Matt said, smirking.

"I don't want it," Mello snarled, turning away from the chocolate and walking further down the aisle. Behind him, Matt rolled his eyes and tossed one of the boxes of chocolate bars into the cart. _You could have just asked. It's not like I'm going to bite,_ Matt thought, a feeling remarkably like remorse welling in his chest as he watched a hurt Mello distance himself from him.

On their way past the checkout and into the street Mello kept his distance from Matt, his shoulders slouched and his head tilted down to let his hair cover his face. He couldn't believe that Matt was acting like such an asshole. In fact, the new Matt was almost a completely different person from the person he remembered. Mello's image of a stolid, reassuring man was deteriorating the more time he spent with this abrasive and almost unfeeling one. Mello's arms had begun to ache. He had just grabbed half of the grocery bags, but had ended up picking up the heaviest ones containing frozen entrees. _Fuck this_, he thought angrily, slowed down by the leaden bags. _Why on earth did I have to pick up the bags filled with the heaviest shit? _He started to lag behind Matt, unable to keep up with the taller man's long strides.

Matt found himself rounding a corner with Mello nearly half a block behind him, and waited for the blond to catch up. Teasing him in the grocery store had been highly amusing, but he felt slightly sorry for embarrassing Mello so thoroughly, widening the already large rift between them. Although now it seemed like a stupid thing to have done, he had really just meant it as a petty way of relieving his frustration. He heard Mello's labored footsteps approaching him and stepped forward, intercepting him neatly as he turned the corner. "Move," Mello grumbled, grumpy and exhausted from the torture of carrying the frozen food. He attempted to push past, but Matt stuck out an arm and caught him around the chest. "Give me those. Why the hell did you go and take the heaviest ones? You can have these instead... they've just got snacks in them so they're not as bad," Matt said. To cover his act of apparent concern, he let a snide comment slip. "If I relied on someone as scrawny as you to carry these, the frozen food would just thaw out and it would be a hundred bucks down the drain." Mello didn't reply, simply stalking past Matt back towards the apartment. Matt followed, knowing better than to prod an angry Mello into further conversation.

They reached the apartment and spent the better part of half an hour arranging their purchases in the various cabinets and drawers of the kitchen. It was one in the afternoon by the time they were finished completely, and Matt was starved. "Want something to eat?" he asked Mello, who was slumped over in a chair at the kitchen table, his forehead resting on his clasped hands. Mello looked up, his eyes narrowed. "No, of course not. How else do you think I keep this ass in size double zero pants?" he snapped. Matt simply looked at him disapprovingly. "I guess you still get moody when you're hungry" he commented, poking some holes in the plastic wrap on one of the frozen entrees and shoving it into the microwave. He decided not to mention that double zero was a women's size. Mello simply looked at him with the same angry expression, then turned his head, much like an insolent child. "Fine. Eat if you want. I'm not going to be your mother and force feed you," he said drily as the microwave beeped, taking his food and heading over to the couch. He collapsed onto it and dug into his food, searching for something to watch. Mello's stomach grumbled, but he ignored it, keeping completely still in a show of hurt feelings. But Matt, already absorbed in a special about nanotechnology, wasn't looking at him. _That bastard,_ Mello thought, eyes drooping as his mind started to go fuzzy. _Would it kill him to apologize? _

He woke up a couple hours later, his joints aching from having slept in such an awkward position. As he pulled himself upright in his chair, he saw a microwave dinner in front of him. He looked around for Matt, touched at the gesture. He wasn't in sight. The food had long since gotten cold, but he scarfed it down hungrily, satisfied with the wordless apology. After finishing the meal, he dropped his fork into the sink and the empty container into the garbage can, padding around the apartment in search of Matt. He found him stretched out on the couch, asleep as images flashed across the muted television. _Taking up all the goddamn seats, as usual_, Mello thought, dropping to the floor. He stretched one leg out and bent the other, using it as an elbow rest. Easing the remote control out of Matt's slack fingers, he changed the channel to a sappy romance involving gangsters. His favorite. He turned the closed captioning on, not wanting to wake Matt up, and settled back against the couch to watch. Not fifteen minutes had passed when he heard rustling from behind him. He jumped slightly as Matt's feet hit the floor next to him. He looked up at the lanky redhead, who was disheveled from his nap. Matt looked back at him. "I'm going out. You know where all the food is, so help yourself," he said, before walking to his room and shutting the door with a firm clicking noise. Mello tried not to let this bother him. _Well, whatever. Of course he has a separate life now. It's not like I expected him to start sharing everything with me immediately, anyways_, Mello thought, but even as the words ran through his mind he knew they were untrue. He punched the sofa in frustration, sending it skidding back a couple of inches. He clutched his knuckles, swearing.

Hearing a door open down the hall, he raised his head. And blinked. Since when did Matt dress in anything except t-shirts and jeans? He was straightening a thin, stylish black tie around the collar of a white shirt. A black blazer was draped over his arm, and as he walked into the kitchen Mello saw crisp, dark jeans clinging to his long legs. _Well, damn_, Mello thought, not able to peel his eyes away. A glimmer of what looked like amusement flashed through Matt's eyes as he noticed Mello's gaze, but he turned away too quickly for Mello to be sure. He shrugged the blazer on as he opened the door and exited wordlessly. Mello turned back to the television but was unable to focus; his brain kept bringing up images of Matt in all of his (albeit uncharacteristic) sophisticated glory. _Where exactly is he going dressed like that?_


	7. My GBF Said So

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay! I've been really busy with schoolwork and stuff... I actually had this mostly written when I uploaded the last chapter but I didn't get to go back and finish up until tonight. There's an OC in this one, his name is Ronnie and he's pretty minor. He's Matt's gay best friend, in a way... I based his character off of Leeron in Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann (a great anime, if you haven't seen it) because I love Leeron. And I thought it was appropriate that he should have a gay best friend for romantic advice. Ronnie is only half-joking in his sexual advances, by the way. The next chapter is Mello's POV during this same period of time.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DeathNote, and there is some coarse language in this chapter.

* * *

Matt walked into the bar, pausing only to flash an ID at the bouncer, who didn't even give him a second glance as he walked in. Truth be told, this bar had been more of a home to him than his apartment for the past years, and though he had never liked going out very much, he could always depend on a good time here. Or at least, a time when he wasn't constantly reminded of Mello's absence. It was hard to feel emotions when he could barely walk five feet without falling. And it was hard to feel his heart ache when it was his head doing all the hurting. Matt climbed onto a barstool, resting his elbows on the counter as he looked around. The place wasn't very crowded, which was one thing he liked about it. It had the remarkable characteristic of being filled with the kinds of people he didn't mind being around, without the usual rambunctious and loud party crowd that he couldn't stand. He heard someone sit down next to him and smiled, not even needing to turn his head to identify his companion. "Hey, Ronnie," he said, turning his head slightly in acknowledgment of his visitor's presence.

The man who had approached him was even taller than Matt was. He had short brown hair that was spiked slightly in the front, giving him the air of someone who had never quite made it past his high school years. His facial features were androgynous to the point where it would have been impossible to tell his gender if not for his attire. He was clad in a metallic gray pinstriped suit and sharp Oxford shoes, and had a certain swagger to the way in which he sat. The smile on his face was suggestive, and Matt didn't flinch as the other man reached out to fix his tie, then ran a hand down his chest. "Mattieeeee," Ronnie said, drawing out the last syllable into an almost obscene moan. "You haven't been here in a week! Ronnie was starting to get worried," he continued, purring. Matt grinned.

"I see you're as much the drama queen as ever. Or should I say, drama _queer_."

"I only swing this way for _you_, darling," Ronnie cooed, beckoning the barman over.

"Bullshit," Matt muttered under his breath. He opened his mouth to order. "I'l-"

"-This one's on the house," Ronnie said, winking. "What'll you have?"

Matt hesitated. "Vodka on the rocks," he said finally, settling on his old standby. Ronnie ordered a whiskey for himself and they settled back into conversation. "Why are you always hanging around? Don't you ever have anything better to do?"

"Surely it's legal for me to enjoy my own bar," Ronnie pouted, catching his drink neatly as the barman slid it over to him. "Besides, you're here nearly as often as I am. I'm starting to think you're here to get a piece of my ass."

Matt let out a snort. "Yeah, not really," he said, running a slender finger around the rim of his glass, face darkening. Ronnie observed him knowingly.

"Is your- ah- little problem back?"

"It's not exactly a _little_ problem, really," Matt sighed, taking draining his vodka and barely wincing as the overpowering burn scratched at his throat. He motioned to the barman for another one.

"Don't drink too much," Ronnie said, dropping his playful, seductive tone. "You know what happened last time."  
"Well, I don't know what else to do. I'm so fucking... conflicted," Matt said, gulping the second vodka down and wiping his mouth forcefully with the back of his hand. Ronnie looked down at his drink.

"What happened when he came back?" he asked. The way way he enunciated 'he' made it sound like Mello was some sort of disease.

"He didn't tell me anything. Not a single damn thing about the past five years," Matt said angrily, leaning back. "Well, okay, no. He gave me a fucking cover story. Some vague shit about what he had been doing. But no details. He claims he wants to tell me, but he just won't."

"That bastard," Ronnie sympathized.

"No. Not a bastard. Don't get me wrong- I want to hate him, but I just can't. And at the same time it's hard to look at him the way I used to."

Ronnie was silent.

"I even slept with him," Matt said, sounding revolted.

"And how long has he been back?"

"Since yesterday afternoon."

"My, my. Seems like you wanted to get back in his pants even more than you want to get in mine."

"Shut the fuck up, Ronnie," Matt said, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. It was good to have someone to talk to.

"So how awkward was the morning after?"

Matt groaned. "Very. Like... insanely awkward. I ended up acting like an ass the whole of today because I didn't know how to deal with him. I honestly don't know what to do," he said, burying his head in his hands. The implied question wasn't really one he was expecting an answer to, but Ronnie looked thoughtful.

"Do you still love him?"

Matt was silent. He knew the answer was a definite yes, but he was unwilling to say it aloud. Ronnie looked amused.

"You can't deny your own feelings, as much as you try. Although... I do think it's wrong of him not to tell you anything. He's not letting you into his life, so why should you let him back?" He stood up. "I'll leave you to it. Don't worry about the bill, it's on me tonight." He walked away, glancing back just once at the figure slumped over the counter broodingly.

His third shot. Was the alcohol doing something to him? The longer he sat and brooded, the more his annoyance intensified. And was that... _anger_ he was feeling? Something tightening in his chest seemed alarmingly like hatred. A fourth shot burned as it hit his stomach. Thinking about it more clearly, what Ronnie had said was right. Mello was being completely unfair. But _was_ he really thinking about it more clearly? After all, he'd been drinking. And drinking did not clear his mind. In fact, a dull fogginess was setting in. He couldn't even feel the sixth shot as it slid down his throat. He hadn't waited around just to accept Mello as soon as that bastard came back. He should have left him begging on his doorstep. But he'd let him back into the apartment... why wasn't Mello keeping his end of the deal? The more time his thoughts spent steeping in alcohol, the more abrasive his feelings became. Finally, he stood up forcibly and clapped a handful of bills down on the counter, forgetting about Ronnie's generous offer. He walked out the door and signaled for a cab, hardly noticing his unsteady steps and awkward gait. His speech was slurred as he gave his address to the driver, and he had more than a little difficulty with reading the numbers on the bills as he attempted to pay the driver when they pulled up in front of his apartment building.

He entered the building clumsily, punching in the elevator button impatiently. He got inside and tapped his foot as he ascended, willing the elevator to move faster. When the doors finally opened, he exited hurriedly and strode down the hall, fumbling with his key before he threw the door open and stepped inside. Mello, who had been slumped over at the kitchen table, jerked upright, pushing his chair away from the table and standing. "Matt, there's something I wanted to tel-" he started to say, his tone determined, but was cut off as Matt stumbled forward and crushed his lips with a violent kiss.


	8. Beating Addiction

**Author's Note:** Hola! I'm sorry for the late-ness of this chapter... I wanted to have it up two days ago so that it would leave you suitably excited for the upcoming lemon, but I had a LOT of schoolwork. But uhh I guess I'll just have a really quick update sometime this weekend so that no one dies from the suspense. This chapter explains what was going on with Mello while Matt was getting drunk. A very large lemon is coming up in the next chapter. ;D

Also... THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reviews! It makes me really happy to read them. I like hearing what you guys think, so thanks! ^_^

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note. Coarse language.

* * *

Mello's thoughts kept flickering between the television and vague memories of life before Russia. He thought about 'life before Russia' so often now that he had started abbreviating it in his head as 'LBR', as if thinking out all the syllables was too much work. He was draped on the sofa now, one arm hanging off the side while the other was bent behind his head. The voices coming from the television were starting to make less and less sense to him, their voices garbled as though the characters were underwater. Growing bored of the movie, which was growing increasingly pointless, he switched the television off and swung his legs off of the sofa, standing up and stretching. He wandered around, padding through the kitchen and living room, and finally making his way into their old bedroom. He sat down on the bed. He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of Matt's hands against his skin as they had made love the previous night, but his thoughts were jarred as he remembered the coldness and awkwardness between them after the act. He stood up, suddenly finding the bed uncomfortable, and wandered over to the chest of drawers. Curious, he slid the drawers out one by one, amused to find underpants in the first and a jumble of socks in the second. The third contained jeans, and the fourth contained an assortment of random items like old toothbrushes, rubber bands, paper clips, a screwdriver, wires, and some chewed pencils and pens. Mello shook his head and moved on to the fifth, but froze as he saw its contents.

The fifth drawer was filled with ashtrays. Mello pulled his hand away from the drawer's handle as if it had burned him, sinking back onto his heels and hugging his knees to his chest as tears formed in his eyes. How on earth had he not noticed? Ever since he had come back, he hadn't caught a single whiff of cigarette smoke, a scent that he had breathed every day when he had lived here previously. During 'LBR' he thought wryly, wiping away the tears of shock that had run down his cheeks. There hadn't been a single time when he had seen Matt without a cigarette in his mouth or clamped between his fingers. Except, of course, for when they went to bed. _How did I miss that?_ Mello thought sadly, still crouched in a ball. Looking back into the drawer, Mello remembered the exact location of each ashtray. The square glass one had gone in the kitchen next to the sink. The one shaped like a snowman had belonged on the coffee table. And the one Mello had given Matt for his eighteenth birthday, shortly before he had left for Russia, had been placed on the nightstand that had stood next to Matt's side of the bed. He reached out to touch it and started as he felt a piece of paper attached to the bottom. Lifting it, he turned it over and was surprised to find a sticky note there. It simply said "3 months and six days" in Matt's messy, uneven handwriting. He put the ashtray back and shut the drawer, feeling as though he had invaded something that he didn't deserve to know about.

He stood up and left the room, going back into the living room. He was numb from shock, hardly able to feel his feet as they thumped against the cool, hard floor. He collapsed listlessly onto the sofa, covering his face with his hands and letting them slide off slowly. _I've always been a heartless bastard_, he thought bitterly, dropping his gaze from the ceiling to the game systems in the shelves below the television monitor._ I've always loved him selfishly. I never once thought about the relationship in terms of Matt. It was always about getting pleasure for myself. _He picked up the remote control which lay beside him and threw it to the floor, watching with knitted brows as it flipped and skidded across the wooden planks.

_Matt had been sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a racing game. As always, he was playing against the computer. Mello walked in and Matt, hearing his footsteps, paused the game and turned around, grinning. "Hey, Mel. Want to play? It's getting boring racing the computer," he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the screen. Mello paused, then nodded with a tight-lipped smile. Matt busied himself with plugging the other controller in, then handed it to Mello. "So, uh, how do I play?" Matt patiently went through the controls, pointing out the various buttons and their functions, but Mello's mind was elsewhere and his gaze kept flickering to his cell phone, which was resting silently on the coffee table. Matt started a new race, and Mello couldn't get his car to move, not having paid attention to Matt's instructions. "Damn it," he said under his breath, not noticing the irritated glance Matt sent his way. _

"_I just explained it to you. Or weren't you paying attention?"_

"_Mattie, you know I'm slow at these things. You're so good at this because you're technologically savvy," Mello said, putting the weak flattery up as protection against Matt's annoyance. Matt didn't reply. Suddenly, Mello's phone rang. He jumped up to answer it, not noticing the look of resentment and anger that Matt was giving him as he listened to the caller. "I'll be on my way then," he had replied, pocketing the phone and walking towards the door. He had paused, remembering Matt. "Mattie, I need to go, it's urgent," he had said, his voice apologetic. Matt had turned to him and smiled that horribly false smile. "It's okay, go. I know how important your work is," he had replied. But there had been no sarcasm or anger behind the biting words, just a deep sadness. The whimsical music from the video game faded as Mello stepped into the hallway._

Mello got up from the couch, walking to the cupboard where all the gaming equipment was kept and opening the door. Matt's favorite controller could be easily recognized by its dirtied and stained exterior, the joystick giving easily when he pushed it experimentally. Digging farther back, he found the controller had been looking for. Its surface, though covered by a fine layer of dust, was pristine, its wire still stiff and the joystick's motion inhibited from a lack of use. It was the controller that had been meant for him. Tears splattered the plastic surface, and Mello wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sinking back onto his knees and realizing, for the first time, how one-sided their relationship had truly been. _No wonder Matt's angry,_ Mello thought sadly, winding the wire around the controller and shoving it roughly back into the depths of the cupboard from which it had come. _It's not just about Russia. It's about... everything._

Unable to bear the sight of the television and the game systems anymore, he moved to the kitchen table, burying his face in his hands upon sitting. _Matt has gone through too much shit because of me_, he thought angrily, tangling his fingers into his hair._ And even though it might get the both of us killed, I need to tell him what was going on. It's only fair. He put up with my crap for eight years, so I can do this much for him. _He rested his forehead on the cool glass surface of the table, miserable. The less Matt knew, the better, because there was a chance that the mafia could waltz into their apartment on any given day, and if he didn't know anything he had a chance at being spared. _Then I'll tell him what I know, but not all at once. I'll drag it out until I'm sure the coast is clear. That way he stays safe... well, as safe as he can be living with me... and I save what's left of our fucking joke of a relationshi-_

The door of the apartment burst open, interrupting his half-formed thought. Mello sat up immediately, registering Matt standing in the doorway. He stood up, relieved to finally have come up with a solution to his problem. His voice shaking with emotion, he started to speak. "Matt, there's something I wanted to tel-" but before he could finish his sentence, Matt walked towards him and kissed him with such force that Mello gasped in pain as the metallic taste of blood seeped into his mouth.


End file.
